


Loved and Lost

by skelly_ton



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-13 18:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18474550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skelly_ton/pseuds/skelly_ton
Summary: -indefinite haitusLance contracts an alien disease during a diplomatic mission, and it's up to the team to figure out the cure.





	1. Alstroemeria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is worried. Pidge is willing to listen.

"Pidge?"

Pidge paused her typing and glanced up over at the doorway to the bridge, where Lance was standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Lance, what's up?” It was late. Lance should be asleep, but here he was, fully dressed, wide awake, and trying desperately to look casual.

“Well, you know, I was just up and I happened to-”

“Yeah, no, that's bullshit. Tell it to me straight or I won't be able to help.” She loved Lance, but he was always so hesitant when it came to opening up to the team. He knew they'd be there for him no matter what, right?

But he was just standing there, saying nothing, shifting awkwardly in the doorway like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to come through. Jeez. Pidge closed out the program she was troubleshooting and swiveled in her chair to fully face him.

“Lance. Talk to me, dude.”

He glanced over his shoulder into the hallway, “Okay, okay, just- don't- I need you to promise to keep this a secret from everyone, okay? I'm not, like, doing drugs or anything!” he quickly added at her worried expression, “I just don't want to make it, like, a big deal, that's all.”

Pidge could keep a secret, sure. “As long as you're not trying to get me to help you cover up some dumb prank gone wrong again,” she joked. Lance barely reacted. He just looked… scared. Oh, jeez. Something really was wrong.

Lance looked one more time over his shoulder, probably checking to see if anyone else had woken up, then walked over to Pidge. He took something out of his pocket and held it out for her inspection.

“A crumpled paper towel?”

“No! It's- it's in the paper towel. Just- look!”

Pidge looked. Hm. Some saliva. Gross. And… “Are those… flower petals?”

“I don't know! That's what it looked like, but that doesn't make any sense!” Lance sounds almost hysterical, “I coughed those up, Pidge! In my sink!”

Why is he so panicked? Sure, it's weird, but why come to her instead of Allura? Or Coran? And why wait until the middle of the shipwide sleep cycle to bring it up?

One look at his expression, though, and Pidge and knew now wasn't the time to ask. Now was the time to be supportive. Lance had come to her with a problem and goddammit she was going to do her best to help him.

But how, exactly? Pidge was silent for a moment as she considered her options, looking thoughtfully at the spit-covered petals. First of all, she'd need to figure out what the hell these were. Ideally, she would use a healing pod to check out Lance's lungs for any obvious obstructions, but since he wanted to keep this a secret from Allura and Coran, then that was out of the question. She'd ask to examine Lance personally, but that felt kind of weird. Besides, she was the computer guy, not a doctor. So looking all Lance wasn't an option at the moment. Shit. That was a pretty critical part of figuring out what was going on.

But Lance had given her these samples… They were hardly in pristine condition, but they were the best she would get. What else? Her personal computer, her programs she used to break down the DNA of unrecorded organisms they discovered on their diplomatic expeditions...

Okay. She could work with this.

“I'll run these through some basic biometric scans. Shouldn't be too much of an issue, but it'll take a while for the computer to analyze it. I'll get back to you ASAP.”

Lance nodded. God, why was he being so quiet? She could  _ not _ get used to this. The fact that he wasn't cracking dumb jokes was even more unsettling than the fact that he was apparently coughing up plant life.

He cleared his throat, a nervous tic. “I should probably…” he gestured to the door, “...sorry for bothering you. I know that, uh, translation program is kind of a big deal. I'll head back to bed now.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow. Had he been paying attention during that morning's briefing? “Hey, it's no problem. You can always come to me with this stuff, Lance.”

“Thanks, Pidge,” Lance said quietly. He looked so freaking tired. Not like ‘up one night’ tired, but ‘hadn't slept in weeks’ tired. How long had this been going on, anyway? Judging by the way he was acting, the way he waited until everyone else had gone to bed- there's no way this was a one-time occurrence.

But there was also no way Lance would want to talk about it. He had huge dark circles under his eyes from staying up, probably worrying. The last thing he needed right then was more questions.

Pidge knew how that felt.

“Hey, Lance, I could actually use some company. Working in total silence with nothing but the unforgiving void outside the window is kind of wearing on my nerves,” which was a complete lie; she did her best coding at night on the bridge, but Lance would never stay if he knew that.

If she were in his situation, the last thing she'd want would be too be left alone in the dark of her room with nothing to do but think. 

He looks shocked. Understandable. Pidge tended to make an effort to be alone when she had a big project to compete.

“You sure? Because I can totally give you some space-” he paused, and the corner of his mouth twitched up, “like any of us need more of that, amiright?”

There's the Lance she knew.

“Nah, stay here. I'll bounce some ideas off you. Talk through the code.”

With an exaggerated groan, Lance flopped down into a chair beside her, “Coding? Talk to me about something more exciting, like, can I use that program to flirt with the Kasvistian princesses?

Pidge snickered, “It'll take more than a computer program to even give you a  _ chance _ with one of them, dork.”

An offended gasp, “Are you implying that my charms are not enough to seduce those of noble blood? Have a little faith!”

The petals lay forgotten in Pidge's pocket for the rest of the night and well into the next morning, after Allura found both of them passed out on the bridge with the nearly completed translation program still running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- alstroemeria -  
> representative of friendship, good fortune and prosperity
> 
> first time writer here. any and all advice is appreciated! please let me know what's working and what isn't


	2. Camellia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's condition gets worse. Pidge does her best to be supportive. Keith's there, too, but whether he's actually helping is... debatable.

Lance had hoped that the whole petal-vomiting incident would be a one time thing.

Unfortunately, as he stared down at the bloody saliva and velvety red fragments that now littered the bottom of his sink, he realized that was probably not the case.

It had been two days since he had told Pidge about his issue. Two days of Allura telling them all to take the day off because they still hadn't managed to successfully communicate with the Kasvistiens. Two days of trying to ignore deep pains in his chest while the rest of the team was training, or playing board games, or just fucking eating breakfast together,  _ fuck,  _ the discomfort was  _ constant _ . Two nights of waking up to an itching in his throat, and two nights of retching over his sink in the dark just trying to get a full breathe's worth of air in his lungs while also trying to be as quiet as possible so he didn't wake anybody up. 

And now he was on night fucking three, and he was already starting to feel the exhaustion weighing down heavy in the back of his skull. His hands had started to shake doing the simplest goddamn things. He nearly dropped his bayard during training and even though he managed to catch it, he was pretty sure Shiro saw, so now Shiro would be suspicious, which was just  _ great _ , and if he couldn't figure out what to do soon the whole team would find out he was a liability. 

He did feel  _ kinda  _ bad about keeping secrets from the team. His mind went to Hunk: he could tell Hunk anything, right? He  _ did  _ tell Hunk everything, usually. And he wasn’t the type to just spill people’s secrets, and he’d done so much for Lance- for the team. Maybe he deserved to know what was going on. 

And Hunk was  _ also  _ a sensitive softie with a big heart who tended to overthink things. He’d freak out if Lance told him he’d been spitting blood and… other stuff. So, absolutely not. 

It wasn’t interfering with his performance as a paladin-  _ yet-  _  but if the team knew- they'd just pity him, make him take a break and ‘get some rest’ or something and Allura or Shiro or Keith would have to pick up the slack. Yeah, no way. He had already been enough of a burden. 

He squinted at his reflection. It showed, didn't it? God, he looked tired. The soft blue lights weren't exactly helping, either. They cast deep, ominous shadows across his face and up the walls, making him look practically emaciated. 

Every evening, the Castle would power down the main lights and turn on these dim blue ones that were in all the bathrooms and hallways instead. Something about keeping their body clocks on track, or something. Altogether, he'd probably spent a good 10 hours just staring at his own face in the bathroom mirror, studying the unsettling shadows and surreal lighting as he waited for the next coughing fit. 

He never thought he'd say it, but he might actually be getting sick of the color blue.

* * *

Keith was beautiful. 

His eyes. His face. His scowls. His laugh, rare as it were. Even his stupid mullet. 

It was freaking annoying. 

Lance could have given him a pass if he were, like, average, or even just mildly attractive, but this was ridiculous. It was  _ distracting.  _ How the hell could he focus on the combat drills when Keith was  _ right there,  _ in his skintight black t-shirt, practically twirling through the attacks from the Castle’s training program? How could one person be so hot? He was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he? Fucking show-off. Then again, if Lance had those shoulders, he’d probably be showing off, too-

“LANCE! On your right!” Shiro’s voice interrupted his train of thought, and he saw a flash of movement in his peripheral. One of the holograms was suddenly at his side, rearing back to strike. In a single swift movement, he hoisted his bayard around to get a better shot and fired off a blast square into its face. Close one. 

“Focus, Lance! Last wave,” Hunk called from across the room, “Cover for me!” 

Lance  _ was  _ focusing! Jeez! He took aim at the hologram closest to Hunk.

Freakin’ Keith, with his freaking sword and dumb hair. That brooding look he had in his eyes all the time because he was such an emo dumbass. The way he scowled at Lance every time he made a dumb joke. Sweat dripping down his neck. His shoulders. His ass. 

Whoah, okay, that’s the end of  _ that  _ line of thought. Come on, if he could just finish these guys off, he could head back to his room and take care of the coughing attack he could feel coming on. Of course training would irritate his chest. He mentally kicked himself for not thinking ahead and coming up with some excuse for leaving early. Maybe he could just say he didn’t feel well. That he had a cold or something. No, what if Allura sent him to the healing pods or something? Yeah, no, nobody was allowed to suspect anything. 

The remains of the holograms flickered away, and Lance stood up from his spot in the corner. Finally. Time to get the hell away from everyone so he could cough up his guts in peace.

“Great work, team,” Shiro said, clapping Lance gently on the shoulder. He forced a smile.

“I was worried we were getting rusty, but it looks like we’ve still got it! Fuck off, Zarkon!” Pidge said cheerfully, spinning her bayard around one finger. 

“I dunno. I think we could use a bit more practice,” because of  _ course  _ Keith would think that. Come  _ on,  _ dude, they were fine! “Hunk, you were way too open. You have to let me know when you’re going to go out in the middle of the field like that so I can watch your six.”

“Ah, good point. My bad. What about one more round, then?” Hunk suggested, and Shiro nodded, because they were inhuman and didn’t need things like rest or breakfast, apparently. 

“Guys, I’m  _ hungry.  _ And tired. Let’s take a break? Please?” Lance pleaded. 

“Lance, we haven’t even been going for that long. It’s just one more drill.”

Fuck you, Keith. His chest was seriously starting to hurt. Fuck. Can’t even take a whole breath. 

“You guys can keep going, but I’m just gonna-” and then he made the mistake of looking into Keith’s eyes, and he could have sworn he saw something resembling concern flit across Keith’s face, and he thought about how good it felt to have Keith worry about him, which was a stupid thought to have anyway, and then his chest tightened and he felt something at the base of his throat. He doubled over, hacking into his hands, ignoring the concerned cries that erupted from behind him. A hand on his shoulder. Dark eyes. Dark eyes filling his vision as Keith crouched in front of him, grip on his arm tight. 

“-ance, buddy- Lance! Shit, Shiro, I think he’s choking on something-”

No. No, no no no, he couldn't find out. They couldn’t find out. How could he be this  _ frail?  _ It was just a training session. Pathetic, Lance. And now, they’re all going to see. They’re all going to be disappointed. 

Another hand on his shoulder. 

Pidge. 

They locked eyes, and Lance saw understanding flash across her face. 

One hand under his elbow, she stood up, helping Lance to his feet.

“I’ve got him. I’m gonna take him to the medical wing, do some scans.”

“Let me come with you-” Shut  _ up,  _ Keith. Stop being so damn considerate. Every time he did shit like this, Lance felt- he felt weird, kinda fluttery inside, and part of him was so glad Keith was paying attention to him, and another part of him was recognizing how weird it was that he felt that way, and it all definitely  _ wasn’t  _ helping his cough.

“No, it’s fine. You guys keep working,” Pidge waved him off, throwing one of Lance’s arms around her neck and bracing him with her own he started coughing again.

“If you’re sure…”

“Yes, I’m sure, Keith. Christ. He’s fine, I think it’s just his bronchitis acting up again.”

Lance decided right then that Pidge was an actual angel of a gremlin who lied too easily and to whom he also owed a life debt. 

Once in the hallway, after the coughs began to subside, Pidge glanced behind them to make sure they were alone before turning to Lance. 

“Hey… are you okay? Like, right now, too, but also- in general,” Pidge asked. To his alarm, Lance realized she sounded worried. Really worried. She had hidden it well back on the training deck, but, fuck, Lance had  _ scared  _ her. Fuck!

“I’m fine. It was just, I think training aggravated it? Maybe? It’s not usually this bad,” which wasn’t a lie, exactly.

“Hmm,” She didn’t look convinced, but he could see the gears turning in her brain, and her expression slowly shifting from concerned-friend to concerned-scientist. Better. 

“So. Bronchitis, huh?” he bumped her playfully on the shoulder, trying to steer the conversation in a less serious direction.

“Yeah, it’s a solid cover story. Lots of coughing,” Pidge smiled, some smugness leaking into her tone,  “Contagious, so if you want, you can spend some time alone for a couple weeks. And totally common, treatable, and short-term. Most of the time, patients end up recovering on their own. Medication isn’t even required. Nobody should have any reason to worry about you.”

Pidge. His angel. God-sent. 

“Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. Now,” her pace slowed as they neared an intersection in the Castle’s hallways, “I’m guessing you don’t actually want to go get scanned.”

“Ha. No.”

“Alright, let’s head to your room, then. You can cough as much as you need to, get all the bad shit out, and I can fill you in on some of my theories.”

Lance nodded and led the way down the left hall, back to their rooms. 

A mistake, he realized, as he rounded the corner.

In hindsight, he definitely should have been more careful. Of course somebody else would have already decided to head back. And of course that person had to be Keith. And of course Keith had to be only half-dressed because he was on his way to the shower. 

Expressions flashed across Keith’s face too quickly to identify before he settled on mildly annoyed, “Back already?”

Lance cleared his throat awkwardly, “Yeah, it kinda- it went away, so I figured I could just come back here to chill for a bit,” he said, trying not to stare at Keith’s bare chest. Where the fuck was his shirt? Who walks to she showers without a shirt? Fuck. 

“He’s gonna help me debug the translation program,” Pidge said from behind him. Thank you, Pidge. She had saved his life twice in the past five minutes. That’s gotta be some kind of record. 

“Oh. Cool,” Keith said. He didn’t move, though. Just stood there, leaning against his door, staring at Lance. Fuck. Was Lance blushing? No, he was not. No way.

“Gotta go. Bugs to crush. Kasvistiens to befriend,” Pidge said, gently but firmly pushing on Lance’s back and closing the door to his room behind them.

God, that was embarrassing. Wait, “Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

Pidge’s smirk just widened, “You were  _ staring. _ ”

“I was NOT!” His voice squeaked in the most undignified way possible, dammit. Pidge looked smug. Fuck no. Fuck no, he was not staring. One does not stare at one’s hot teammates.

But Pidge just gave him this look, this knowing look, and he felt his whole face  _ burn.  _

Fuck. 

Suddenly, he felt the telltale shooting pains that signaled another attack, and he knew it was going to be a bad one. Pidge didn’t need to be here for that. 

“Pidge, you need your laptop, right?” For the program. Please leave. Please leave. 

She rolled her eyes, “Fine, I’ll let you change the subject- for now. This conversation isn’t over,” and as soon as she was out the door Lance made a mad dash for the bathroom. 

He practically collapsed into the sink, his whole body heaving as  _ something  _ started to work its way up his throat. He coughed. Coughed again. He couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t  _ breathe.  _

Something was caught in his throat and he couldn’t inhale. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was panicking. Do not panic. 

Silent coughs wracked his body. Black spots begane to dance in the corners of his vision. Was he going to pass out? Fuck, no-

And then he coughed, for real, loud, and he could  _ breathe.  _

He was okay. 

But whatever had been choking him was still in his mouth.

Grimacing at its bitter taste, he spit it into the sink, and his heart pretty much fucking stopped. 

Yeah. 

A fucking flower. 

Go fucking figure.

* * *

It was crimson. About five inches from edge to edge. Completely soaked with saliva and bile and maybe (though Lance hoped he was wrong) blood. 

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck, indeed.”

He and Pidge were sitting on the floor of his room, the offending blossom between them. Pidge had her laptop out and was typing furiously. 

She shook her head in disbelief, shock written on her face, “You coughed  _ that  _ up?”

“Yes! God! I know it’s unbelievable, but I’m not  _ lying  _ to you! I wouldn’t-”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Lance!” Pidge whipped her head around to glare at him dead in the eyes. Her voice taught, almost frantic, “You could have choked to death! You could have  _ died!” _

_ You could have died.  _ Lance wanted to rebuke her, somehow, say something to convince her (and himself) that it wasn’t  _ that  _ serious, but he can’t think of anything. The silence is telling.

She was right. He had almost passed out, and if he had- if Pidge hadn’t been coming back-

“You’re exaggerating,” he lied. His throat was still killing him. Every time he spoke or swallowed, it stung like hell. 

“I am  _ not,  _ Lance. This is serious,” she said, then sighed, “Look. I’ve got a couple theories, okay? Let’s just… go over all the options,” She turned her laptop so he could see the screen. 

“Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, phosphorus, sulfur, chlorine, boron, iron, copper, manganese, molybdenum, copper, iron... Elements and amino acids all typical to plant life. Double helix DNA structure that’s consistent with existing records. It’s actually pretty remarkable that we can be this far out in space and still see such impressive correlation with earth organisms.” 

Symbols and numbers flashed across the screen. Lance was totally lost. 

“So, you’re saying-”

“Yup, those were definitely petals. Flower petals, just like the ones you’d find on earth. And this is definitely a flower. So,” she leaned forward empathetically, “why the fuck are you barfing them up?”

“I don’t know!”

“Really? You don’t have any idea? You didn’t go and eat a bouquet or something because you were goofing off with Hunk again?”

“Pidge, I think I’d remember if I ate an entire goddamn flower.”

She rolled her eyes, “Good. Just checking. The good news is that narrows down the possible causes a lot. The bad news is that, odds are, we’re probably dealing with some sort of- virus. Or disease.”

Wait, what? “Disease. Like, you’re telling me I’ve been infected with the alien plague.”

“Christ, not the plague. Well, probably. I hope not. No, I think it’s got something to do with that new planet.” 

Kasvista? “The one we touched down on last week?”

“Exactly. Interesting coincidence that you just  _ happen  _ to come down with something super weird within the same week that we first discover an inhabited alien planet in the middle of dead space- and a planet that happens to have one of the densest ecosystems of flora we’ve ever seen, at that.”

She had a point. Kasvista was basically one giant jungle, with the exception of the giant flower fields that spread out for miles in the warmest areas. Most of the Kavistians lived in tree houses suspended  _ hundreds  _ of meters off the ground. There probably wasn’t a full square inch of exposed dirt on the whole damn thing. It looked hella cool, of course, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Go on.”

“Well, since the air was deemed breathable, we went down without our helmets on, right? So  _ I’ve  _ been wondering if maybe it’s possible that you inhaled some alien bacteria. Or maybe a seed? Spores?” She frowned down at the flower Lance had coughed up. 

“Wouldn’t the Castle have detected if there was something in the air, though?” Lance really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to have some alien  _ thing  _ growing inside him. Gross,  _ gross _ , no  _ thank  _ you. 

“It normally would, but it’s possible that the Castle just isn't equipped to deal with this planet’s specific biological threats. After all, it’s a totally unexplored area- a blank spot on the old Altean maps. Even in the most recent public archives, there’s little to no indication that a planet even  _ exists  _ out here. We’re flying blind.”

So, it was completely probable. Just great. 

“So what does this mean… for me?” Really, he didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t  _ not  _ know, either.  

“We need more information. We have no idea what this is, or what it’ll do, how it’ll develop,” Pidge closed her laptop and set it on the floor next to her, resting her chin in her hands, “Lucky for us, Allura will probably be able to schedule a meeting with the Kasvistiens soon, which means we’ll be able to head down there and I’ll be able to collect some more samples. Maybe we’ll even get to talk to the locals, ask some questions, see if any of them know anything about a petal-barfing disorder.”

“That’s only if you get the translation program working, though,” Lance joked, trying to keep the mood light and the subject as far away from his condition as possible.

Pidge let out a mock-offended gasp, “You doubt me? Lance! I thought we had something!”

“They don’t even communicate with  _ words,  _ it’s like- with smells and dances or some weird shit like that _.  _ How are you even coding this thing in the first place?” Lance didn’t even know what he was talking about. He just wanted to talk about something else, anything else. 

That set her off, and she started talking about the Kasvistiens’ chemical communication and vibrations and equivalent English phrases and genetic constants that allowed them to even attempt communication in the first place. Lance was totally lost, but he liked listening to her. It made him feel smart. And it was a nice distraction.

“...Anyways,” she finished, “Allura said that the Kasvistiens actually seem really friendly! The queen seems really interested in our culture, so we’ll probably spend a lot of time down there, talking and all that diplomatic junk. Which will be much easier once I actually get the translation program to run smoothly.”

“Ehhh, you’ll get it eventually. You’re the computer kid.”

“Kid? I’m more mature than you are, you gay fuck.”

“ _ Excuse _ me?” He punched Pidge jokingly in the shoulder, “Slander! Take it back!”

This was nice. Casual banter with his friends was something of the past, ever since the Galra became more active. Moments like this were few and far between. 

“But, anyway,” Pidge said, her tone becoming more serious, “I think I’ll suggest that the team keep their helmets on while we’re down there. Just in case you did inhale something bad.”

“Yeah. Good call, Pidge,” Well, there went his five seconds of relaxation. So much for ignoring reality. 

“But, Lance- I don’t think we should keep this a secret anymore.”

What?

“I mean, you got lucky this time, but what about next time? What if I’m not here? What if-” She suddenly stopped talking. Tears, honest to god tears, were glistening in Pidge’s eyes. She took a deep breath, obviously trying to control herself, and glared at the ceiling, crossing her arms defensively in front of her chest, “Sorry, sorry, I’m just- what if, you know?”

Great. Now he was upsetting the only person who could be there for him. Was there anything he couldn’t screw up? Jesus, Lance, get it together. Stupid, stupid. Why hadn’t he realized how much this would eat at her?

“Pidge, no. I’ll be fine. I’ll avoid training, I’ll use the bronchitis excuse- I’m pretty sure the fighting was what set it off.”

“But what if you start choking at night or something? And you get hurt, and it’s because I didn’t tell the team-” 

Wait, did Pidge think it would be  _ her  _ fault if Lance choked to death? “I’ll be fine! Really.”

She didn’t look convinced. Lance almost regretted telling her in the first place. All it did was make her stressed. More things to worry about on top of being charged with the facilitation of a very important diplomatic negotiation. Why was he such an insensitive prick? He needed a way to put her mind at ease. Something, anything. 

Lance snapped his fingers. Okay, what if- “What if I slept in your room? Would that make you feel better? You’re up all night, you’d notice if I started vomiting blood or some shit,” he joked. Shit, bad joke. Not funny. 

“...Okay.”

Thank  _ god _ . At least she didn’t look like she was about to cry anymore. 

After a few more minutes of idle, half-hearted conversation, Pidge went to go get breakfast while Lance finished cleaning up his bathroom. He considered throwing the flower in the trash, but that was too easily discovered. He settled on flushing it down the toilet instead. 

As he watched its deep, unnaturally red body swirl down the drain, the thoughts he had been trying to supress bubbled back up to the surface. 

What if he really did have something growing inside him? What if they couldn’t cure it? What if it was fatal? What if he died?

He slammed the lid of the toilet and went to go catch up with Pidge. He didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about those things than he absolutely had to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- camellia -  
> adoration, longing, desire


End file.
